looking for a trail to follow again
by wcrmtails
Summary: "They skirt around each other carefully, circling closer and closer to find air again, before being pulled back on an invisible string. iThis isn't how we're supposed to be/i." aka the one where aos Jim and Spock end up with the memories of their tos counterparts. Kirk/Spock
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is my first spirk fic I've written since I was 11. I've written them a lot though, both unfinished, roleplaying, and other pairings. But this idea wouldn't leave me alone, even it's been done before.

The title's from "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron, which you should all listen to because it's literally gorgeous.

* * *

If there's one thing Jim doesn't want, it's another first contact mission. He knows those are the whole point of this five year mission and usually, he's all for meeting new species. It's exciting, knowing that you're the first human to set foot on the planet; the first human to greet them. Everywhere you go, you're setting records. That's the sort of thing Jim was born for. But lately, he's getting worn down. The last month has been hell and if he doesn't get a break, he's afraid his eyes are going to fall out of his skull. In that month, there's already been three new contacts.

The first one wasn't too extraordinary. There'd been a feast involved, plenty of drinking. They'd even invited some of the crew to see their apparently legendary gardens. And Jim had to admit, the gardens had been beautiful. Everything had been bathed in shades of purples and pinks, vibrant and arching above their heads. In his excitement, Sulu had nearly combust right then and there. Spock hadn't been much better, even if he was better at hiding it; Jim knew he was just excited as the rest of them. The only downside to the mission was after they'd already left orbit. Before they'd beamed up, they had wrapped a wreath of flowers around each of their necks in farewell. Although Spock looked vaguely affronted, they'd left without a hitch. Until, of course, it turned out Jim was allergic and Bones had a hissy fit. But there wasn't anything new about that.

On the other hand, the second had been frustrating. The species hadn't quite developed linguistic skills, bizarrely enough. They'd relied almost entirely on written language, aside from a few grunts here and there. A language none of the crew could read. When even Uhura failed and the natives looked increasingly confused, Jim was ready to turn to Bones's coping skill of drinking as much as could, as quickly as he could. Eventually, they'd gotten around to communicating that Spock would have to meld with their leader. Actually getting that _across_ was a feat that Jim thought ought to go down in history books. Uhura definitely got a shining mention in his log for that. After nearly a day of negotiations and Spock getting slightly more agitated with every hour, they'd worked out a pretty good deal and gotten them to agree to joining the Federation. And best of all, they'd thrown together a book of simple translations for the meantime. Jim felt like patting himself on the back, but instead he recorded his log and flopped into bed for the next twelve hours.

The last had been, by far, the worst. And the most unexpected. They were on route to the nearest starbase to pick up supplies and a couple of new crew members, when things had completely gone to shit. It started with system failures, leaving them dead in the water. Then came the illness that swept through the crew, finding them shaking and wide eyed, unwilling to move with a fever that reached increasingly concerning levels. The few of them that remained coherent reported an incessant ringing in their ears, so loud they could hardly think. When Bones had finally come up with a cure for it, things got even worse. As the crew started to recover, the _Enterprise_ fell apart even faster. The cure stopped working a few hours later and Jim managed to catch the bug. He's not really sure what happened after that, but from what he's been told, they'd found out the true cause was a sentient species, microscopic in size. They'd been curious, Spock had told him, not realizing that their presence would have such disastrous results. When the cure had started to kill them off, they felt threatened, and so acted out. Apparently, they'd purposefully gone for Jim. Which was pretty awesome. Somehow, they'd gotten the damn things off the ship, though they were all being weirdly vague on the details. Jim didn't pry.

That was all well and good, but it left Jim bedridden for a week. Most people who'd been infected were out for a few days, but just his luck, as he'd been the target, it was even worse for him. He couldn't argue that he needed it. It hurt to move, his joints protesting when he so much as tried to get up to piss. His ears were sore as an after effect of the ringing he could barely even remember for how long he'd been completely out of it, and he had a bitch of a migraine every few hours. Bones had graciously supplied him with hypos for that, but half the time, Jim couldn't even get up to get them.

So, it's understandable why when his comm beeps, he glares and throws a pillow at it.

It beeps again.

He groans, burying his face in the remaining pillow before finally answering.

" _What_?" It's snapped, his voice hoarse with disuse.

"Captain, we have received a distress signal from a nearby class M planet." He can practically feel the eyebrow raise.

Jim huffs, rolling over onto his back. "Yeah? And why can't you deal with it?" He's aware that he's being childish right now and that quite a few of the bridge crew can hear him whining, but he doesn't care. Dammit, he has a right to whine every once in a while. Most people his age aren't up in space, being diplomats, fighting aliens, dealing with anomalies, dying then coming back to life... And _definitely_ not dealing with some illness slash alien life form invading their bodies. It's fun, don't get him wrong. He loves what he does. It's the only thing that makes him feel alive. But damn, if he doesn't want a break sometimes.

"The planet has not answered our hails, Captain. As it would be unethical to simply return to our course, I have deemed it necessary that we beam to the surface. You have shown a propensity for wishing to be present for such missions, unless you wish to resume our previous heading."

So either way, he had to wake Jim up.

"Awesome. Give me a minute and I'll head up to the bridge. Meet me in the ready room. Kirk out."

"Acknowledged, sir."

Jim stares up the ceiling, examining his life choices carefully. Hopefully, this won't take long, and he can come back and nap as long as he wants to. But knowing his luck, it'll take another day at the very least. Jim closes his eyes, breathes in through his nose. This is what he signed up for. No backing down.

With a small sigh, he sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and lingering a moment. He blinks the fog away from his eyes before standing and stretching, arms arching above his head as a yawn escapes his lips. It hurts to move, but he'll deal with it. Shaking his head, as if to dispel the tiredness like beads of water after a shower, he pads into the bathroom. A sonic shower can wait, so he only runs a comb through his hair, brushes his teeth, and grinds his jaw as he injects a couple of hypos for the headache and joint pain.

He's dealt with worse pain than this. He's died, for fuck's sake. This isn't going to be a walk in the park, but he's pretty sure he'll be just fine. Still, he stares himself down in the mirror, mentally telling himself off for all the decisions that lead him here. In a week, he'll probably be back to being convinced this is the best thing to ever happen in his life, but right now, he kind of wants to punch young Jim Kirk in the face for saying yes to Pike.

* * *

As soon as he hears the turbolift doors open, Spock is standing. "Mr. Sulu, you have the bridge."

In decisive steps, he reaches Captain Kirk's side, his hands folded at the center of his back. Kirk gives him a short nod, evidently not in a mood for conversation. There is a sense of _wrongness_ to that, but Spock does not examine it further. Together, they walk to the ready room without speaking a word. As soon as the door slides closed, it is as if Jim has deflated completely, slumping into a sitting position on the conference table. Spock merely arches a brow. To worry about the Captain's state of health is only logical, as both a friend and a first officer. But he will not ask on it, as experience has taught him that Jim does not take kindly to such questions.

"So, what do we know?"

Spock moves to stand slightly closer, still with proper posture, hands folded. Though he feels relatively comfortable with his captain at this point, it is no reason for him to relax as Jim does.

"The species is one the Federation has not encountered before. From what our scans indicate, they are carbon based, and likely humanoid. As this is a first contact situation, we should err with caution. I would suggest having at least one security officer on the away team. I would also request to be on the away team as well, as I might gain some measure of useful scientific data from the planet."

He can see Jim absorbing the information, a hand on his chin and his brows furrowed slightly. "Granted." There's a pause. "No idea why they sent the signal?"

"Negative, Captain. We cannot find any natural cause that might have compelled them to send the signal and they have not answered our hails."

Jim sighs, nodding slightly. Illogically, Spock regrets having called upon him. He knows that Jim would be displeased if he weren't involved in this, but still, he cannot help but feel feel regret at causing the captain more stress than he's already under.

"Alright. Assemble a team. And bring more than one of those security guys. You're dismissed, Commander."

Spock can hear the strain in the human's voice and he wonders if the Federation has not been pushing him too far, too fast. They only just started their five year mission and Jim had gone straight from the Academy to Captaincy. While he has more than proved himself as a commanding officer, it still would have been a much easier mission to undertake with more years of experience. The same can be said for a majority of the crew, including himself. With a slight nod of acknowledgement, he turns on his heel and does just that.

* * *

By the time they're beaming down to the planet, the aches in Jim's head and joints have subsided. _Thank god for Bones_ , he finds himself thinking, a not entirely unfamiliar thought. Although he hopes he doesn't need it, he has a phaser hooked to his belt, and on instinct his hand hovers over it. As the landscape materializes around them, it's breathtaking. Although their sensors indicated this was near the central population, for miles he can't see anything but trees. It's more of a forest, less of a jungle (and seriously, the amount of planets with those is getting annoying), all shades of awe inspiring blues. The air smells crisp, clean. In the air around them, there's a faint sound of buzzing insects, and an almost melodic hum that seems to be coming from a cluster of bright purple flowers to their right.

He glances over to Spock, finding his First looking just as intrigued as he is. Maybe he's not so openly in wonder as the rest of the away team, but Jim can tell. He can always tell. He wonders if it has something to do with being in the older Spock's mind. When he catches Jim watching, he blinks as if slightly startled. And with the blink, he's back to looking just as blank as ever, pulling out his tricorder. Jim looks away.

"Captain, I am reading life signs in nearly every direction. It would be prudent to-" Before the words are even out of his mouth, or the security detail has time to pull out their phasers, they're being ambushed. Of course they are.

In the next moment, he's letting out an undignified yelp as he's dragged upwards. Fucking trees, obviously it's the fucking trees. He feels faintly dizzy as the world tilts from under his feet and he's shooting through the air, getting scraped by branches as he goes. There's no less than six arms wrapped around him in a painful grip, one clamped tightly over his mouth. The alien's skin is scaled, blue just like the surrounding foliage. They're hissing something in his ear, but he can't make it out. When they finally come to a stop, Jim only catches a brief flash of a blue science uniform before there's something being pressed against his neck and he falls into darkness.

* * *

Upon waking, Spock's first sensation is _pain_ , his temples throbbing painfully. He finds himself squeezing his eyes shut against it almost as soon as they have opened. His mind is full of thoughts, swirling, crashing, _too bright_. There is too much, crowding into his head all at once when they should not be there at all. A part of him knows where he is. A part of him does not, almost terrified of the unknown and the unfamiliar weight of limbs, the youth in his blood. This part of him wonders at where he is, though almost immediately he finds the answer within the other half of his thoughts. He remembers beaming down to the planet and being ambushed… Yet he also recalls landing on the same planet when he is years older, met with friendly smiles and open arms, only for a disaster to arise and for the _Enterprise_ to warp away as soon as it was able.

None of it makes any sense, his hands reaching up to clutch at his head. The hands are familiar, yet unfamiliar. They are his, but they are not. He has lived his entire life with these hands, has known nothing else but their youthful skin, but the last he remembers they were wrinkled with age and calloused with use. Half of him wonders what old age is like and how he knows what it is.

It's too much. But no matter who he is, though he can only be _Spock_ , he needs to check his surroundings. Carefully, he cracks open his eyes to the daylight streaming through the blue leaves. That much, at least, is a constant. The planet is blue. Shifting his head carefully, he finds another constant. Still unconscious in a tangle of limbs and slow breath, lies Jim.

He is relieved to see his Captain is indeed alive. His breath is stolen from him at seeing him again, young and _alive_. It does not feel so long since he last saw this Jim, but it comes as a shock every time he does. And just below the surface, he can feel a familiar pull. Different than Delta Vega. _His_ Jim. But he does not think of Jim that way. Jim is his friend, closer after the events following Khan. He plays chess with the Captain, they take their meals together, and sometimes they will converse on matters of no importance. But they do not share a mind, they do not leave soft touches on each other's skin, he does not find reassurance in the brush of the human's fingers against his own.

Finding himself confused and overwhelmed, Spock looks away, attempting to take in more of their surroundings. It is not hard to decipher what has happened. The elder Spock's memories have been transferred to him. His own consciousness has been placed in that of his younger self and he can only assume his body is still functioning, elsewhere in the galaxy, with the same consciousness. It is a situation that will have to be dealt with later. For now, he formulates a plan of escape.

They are in a cell of some sort, surprisingly technological for the tree-dwelling species. They may have reached warp, but they prefer a more natural approach to life. He remembers that from the last time he visited the planet. It is brand new information to him. A softly shimmering shield covers the entrance to the hole dug into the sizable tree. Outside, a guard is sitting on one of the branches, back ramrod straight, one pair of arms holding onto it, another crossed over his chest, and the last at the weapons around his torso. Above them, there seems to be hard, clear paneling, revealing more such cells reaching high up into the tree.

Perhaps when Jim awoke, they could used their combined strength to get through that way while the guard was unaware, and climb out through the unguarded entrance of the above cell. Of course, he could attempt to find a way through their own shield, but there was not much they could do for that while the guard was sitting outside. Or, perhaps-

Jim stirs. Spock can feel his alertness in his mind as he slowly returns from sleep, rolling onto his side before his blue eyes flicker open, meeting his own and widening.

" _Spock_."

* * *

 **A/N:** Tell me if you like it or not :)

I'm planning on finishing this, but I'm literally horrible at finishing multi-chapter fics so I won't promise anything this time because that just adds to my stress and guilt. But I do really love this idea and I have a lot of plans for this one, unlike how I usually start a fic with no idea what direction it's going in. With this one, I have a plot mapped out and a dozen scenes in my head.

More about what happened and how will be in the next chapter. I've got the explanation all worked out, don't worry. It makes... some sense. About as much sense as most TOS plots do.

Other chapters will probably be longer.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I wrote this entire chapter while marathoning hp. I'm still on Order of the Phoenix. So if this is weird, it's probably because of that lmao

* * *

Their bonding had been a quiet affair. By Vulcan standards, perhaps not so much. But by Jim's standards, it was just right. Only their parents and closest friends had been in attendance, for once free of complaints of the heat of the planet. They'd touched minds a hundred times over, over the years. Jim had thought he'd been almost as familiar with Spock's mind as his own. He'd been wrong.

He'd known what to expect, having gone over the ceremony to the point of obsession. Spock had insisted that it wasn't necessary, as they did not expect Jim to be exactly in line with Vulcan tradition when he was, in fact, human. But Jim's resolve had only hardened when he'd had a chat with Amanda and found out that she'd done it _perfectly_. Of course, that's not how the conversation actually went. But Jim could infer and from the way she talked about the hours she spent on it, he'd figured he'd have to put in a few of his own.

So he'd been prepared. Worn the right robes, learned the right words, made the right gestures. He'd known what to expect. Spock's fingers had brushed his psi points in a familiar touch, and he fell. That part had been easy enough. They'd done that more times than he could count. The change came as another presence entered their shared minds, guiding them. Everything was colors and emotions, twisting and writhing in every direction. The presence gently, carefully, pushed them together, wrapping around each other like tendrils. What came with it had no words in any language Jim knew and he suspected none that existed. It left him breathless when the three of them broke, the sun having crept lower though he hadn't noticed more than a few moments pass.

His mind was racing, full. But he'd never felt more whole, falling forward slightly to grip onto Spock's forearm which had only heightened the new emotions. He knew they were his now bondmate's, knew that the new presence in his mind belonged there. It felt _right_. Like their minds had only ever meant to be one and the emptiness before was the unnatural thing. They'd fit, slotting into place and finally able to breathe.

This is nothing like that.

The images are jumbled, crowding into Jim's head in an explosion of color and sound. In his dreams they make little sense. They don't come in any order, flashing from scene to scene before he can comprehend them. Emotions surge through him, his heart swelling and breaking in turn. With each memory comes more understanding. He realizes he's Admiral James T. Kirk. He realizes he's fallen into his alternate self's memories. The him that the elder Spock had known.

While he sleeps, he cannot feel the pain. He has no time to process anything, but the physical tole doesn't make itself known until he opens his eyes. He's no longer himself. He's more than that and it catches his breath in his throat, the sudden pressure in his skull dizzying. The first thing he sees is Spock. Familiar, cold Spock. Home.

" _Spock_ ," the words are a whisper, his eyes widening. He can see Spock's brown widening ever so slightly in turn. Both of him have learned that to be the equivalent of a human's mouth dropping open in shock. The same way those eyes widened the first time Jim kissed him. Since when had he kissed Spock?

For a moment, all he can do is stare wordlessly at his companion. His bondmate. Friend. Whatever he is to him, he can't form a single syllable. Everything hurts. Finally, his mouth opens. He tries to speak. Fails. Tries again, this time licking his lips before clearing his throat.

"What… happened?"

Spock blinks. "We appear to be in a holding cell of some sort. There is a guard positioned approximately 1.2 meters from the entrance."

Jim frowns slightly, his stomach sinking slightly. He doesn't want to be alone in this. If Spock doesn't know what he's talking about…

"I meant… Are you…?" His hands gesture helplessly before he grimaces, the action shooting tendrils of pain through his head. Slowly, he tries to sit up. Neither of him are the type to just sit around and let things happen, no matter how badly hurt he is. After some amount of effort, he manages to prop himself up against the wall. He doesn't notice Spock until he catches his hand moving away from the corner of his eye. Maybe an aborted effort to steady him. Jim doesn't know. Either way, he balances himself after a minute. Lets his eyes close.

He tries again. "My head. My thoughts. They're… I'm not me. I mean, I am me. But it's like there's…" If Spock gets it, he gets it. If not, he'll try and explain it later, when they're out of here.

There's a small sigh from his first officer and Jim's head snaps up at it. One part of him is shocked to hear such a response. The other feels a warmth spread through his chest, fond of such little expressions of emotion. So much more frequent than they had been before the incident with _V'Ger_.

"Yes. It appears… somehow, our consciousnesses have merged with those of our counterparts from the alternate timeline." Jim notes he doesn't say which timeline. Maybe it's just as confusing for him, trying to distinguish which one he is. It's like a constant war. He'd gotten the impression he'd been vastly different from his meld with the elder Spock, but this… It's like being two entirely different people.

"So I'm not alone then? Cool." The more mature, sensible man in him cringes ever so slightly at the use of the word in such a serious situation. But hey, whatever. He's with Spock. He doesn't have to pretend at being a seasoned Starfleet captain. "Do you have any idea how, Mr. Spock?" After so many years, it's almost a term of endearment. _It sounds way too formal_ , he inwardly protests.

"None as of yet, Captain. I only woke up a mere 10.45 minutes before yourself."

It's Jim's turn to sigh, slumping slightly before something occurs to him. "You said there's a guard?"

"That is correct."

"Maybe we could get him to tell us what the hell's going on."

"I doubt that would work."

"Whatever, it's worth a shot."

And with that, he's lifting himself up, shoving the pain in his head to the back of his mind. There's room enough to stand on his feet, which makes him wonder at the height of this tree. His head swims when he's fully upright, making him sway a little. Almost on instinct, Spock reaches out to grab his calf, steady him.

"I'm fine, Spock," he mutters. This is _weird_. Either way, really. The way Spock's touch burns through the fabric of his pants, something he hasn't felt before. How young this body is, without the aches of age in his joints that make standing up a feat. After ascertaining that he really is, Spock pulls his hand away. Jim moves towards the entrance.

"Hey!" The alien's head turns towards him, their many eyes blinking at him at different times. It's damn creepy, if you ask him. "Yeah, I'm talking to you." Their hand creeps towards the weapons on their belt. As if Jim can actually do anything from in here. "Why are we being held here?"

Those eight, abyss eyes just blink at him again before their mouth opens, a string of hisses that might be a language coming through. Their translators are gone. Jim can't make heads or tails of it. They seem to be waiting for a reaction. Look mildly annoyed when they have to repeat themself. This time in Standard. Which… shouldn't be happening. This is a first contact.

"You know why, _pyr-a_."

Jim's brows knit together, something in the back of his mind clicking at the word. And indeed, he does know why.

" _Shit_ ," he mutters to himself. Evidently, his bondmate hears him, two brows raising.

The memory that surfaces is an old one, one he'd forgotten in his age, with the sheer multitude of worlds visited. The Suya-ka were a telepathic species they'd encountered in the first year of their mission. Just as this time, they hadn't known anything about them before landing, though it hadn't been due to a distress signal. Merely that the Federation had informed them that they'd reached warp and as the flagship, it was their duty to greet them into the new age. It had gone spectacularly well for the first two days on the planet, and they even went so far as to decide to go on a short shore leave.

Things had gone south, and quickly. A group of young ensigns had gotten too excited in their drunkenness, accidentally setting fire to a part of the forest that covered most of the planet. It had spread. Fire had, apparently, been outlawed a few centuries before when they'd discovered alternatives that were less risky towards their environment. There weren't any fail safes. The Suya-ka's homes, their lives, were in the trees. Much of it burned down and the _Enterprise_ was blamed. It had turned hostile, losing two crewmen before everyone had beamed back and quickly left. They'd contacted the Federation, who had assured them they'd send relief to help with the fires and help try to rebuild. As far as Jim had known, they did.

The problem lies in the Suya-ka's unique abilities, Jim quickly realizes. They can see the future. Or rather, linear time is simply a foreign concept to them. How this is, they have never been able to figure out, only that it is. While each is an individual, they all share the knowledge of their past as well, the important memories of their entire species shared among them without the need for teachers. With every choice, they can see the endless outcomes, and choose the best.

"So that's why? For something we haven't done?"

The alien doesn't seemed surprise he does understand, merely narrowing their eyes.

"Haven't you? You remember it, just as clearly as you remember everything else in this life. What is the difference between a memory and an event?" When Jim can't answer, the alien shakes their head. "There isn't."

Jim bristles slightly, his spine straightening. "You _will_ let us go. Our crew won't leave us here."

"No, they won't. We can see that. We were merely holding you until you awoke. The _Aytis-pa_ is punishment enough."

"The _what_?"

The alien gives him a look that suggests he's using the intelligence of a two year old. Maybe he is. "If you cannot figure that out, then you are, perhaps, more of a lost cause than we had previously assumed."

"You've been pretty forthcoming so far. What's with the silent treatment now?" He's figured out what it means, but he's just being stubborn now.

"We knew you'd have questions upon waking. I've been told to answer them. Not _pander_ to stupid ones."

Jim just glares at him before turning on his heel and slipping back down the wall. He goes back to trying to figure out an escape, arms crossing over his chest. He doesn't trust the Suya-ka as far as he can throw them. All the while, he can feel Spock's gaze on him.

* * *

By the time the shield is lowered and they are beamed back aboard the _Enterprise_ , Spock has grown agitated. He has not had the time he requires to reflect on the events, let alone the new workings of his mind. The pounding in his head has only subsided marginally. That is without the added fact that he has spent the last 6.57 hours in the presence of James T. Kirk, struggling with himself on wanting to embrace him, never let him out of his site again. It's been too long. He's grown annoyed with himself that he didn't, but then again, he balks slightly at the idea of such close contact with his Captain.

Matters are not helped when, as soon as he has stepped off the transporter pad, he's greeted by Nyota's embrace. As usual, he doesn't exactly reciprocate, though he does relax slightly. But nearly as soon as he has, he's tensing again. He'd never been like this with his Nyota. They'd been close friends, but they each had others that were much more suited for each other. It had never even crossed their minds, the closest they'd ever gotten being Nyota pressing a drunken, sloppy kiss to his cheek, laughing as she pulled away at the shocked expression on the Vulcan's features.

She must feel the sudden stiffness, because she pulls away. "Sorry, sorry. I know you don't like pda, I don't know what I was thinking." She gives a half, almost sad smile, running her hands down his forearms before the fall to her sides and she takes a small step back.

Spock blinks, attempts to find his words, sure to keep a mask over his features. Even if after the incident with _V'Ger_ he'd begun to show emotion, this wasn't the time for that. Nor was this younger version of himself used to it.

"I apologize, Nyota. I must meditate. I will seek you out when I have done so and received proper rest after today's events." Briefly, out of his younger mind's instinct, he brushes his fingers against hers. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jim flinch. Quickly, he pulls away, not looking back at either of them before he's exiting the transporter room.

It was not a lie. He does, indeed, return to his quarters for meditation. Though he does every night, this is different. He knows he will need up to half a day to sort out his thoughts, his memories. Try and find a way to live like this until they can find a solution. Frustratingly enough, he gets slightly lost on his way to his quarters. The layout of the ship is similar, but not completely the same. _The Butterfly Effect_. One thing had changed this much. Guilt threatens to claw up into his throat, but Spock pushes it down. Eventually, he's able to sort his way through conflicting memories and get to his rooms in a timely fashion.

There is little he can do at the time to help his situation. There is no suppressing one set of memories, as he refuses to let himself go, no matter how logical. Neither side of him wishes to be suppressed. What he can do, however, is better merge the memories, helping him become one person. There is nothing he can do to change the confusion of the duality, but it's easier to function if he does not feel like two different people entirely. At least, their personalities are similar. Spock can easily remember when he had been exactly as this younger self. Though he wonders at how he could so easily embrace his emotions now, he has the memories of _V'Ger_. He has the memories of Jim. Of dying. Once he is no longer viewing them as his alternate self's memories, but rather their memories, things go much more smoothly.

When he comes out of the meditation, he feels far more exhausted. Though he is now one, the last day has been tiring. His nerves are frayed. Forgoing his normal nightly rituals of cleaning himself, he simply falls into bed. The lack of another body doesn't bother him. Not anymore. Jim has been gone for years. He and Uhura rarely share a bed. It makes no difference. Though, perhaps, it takes slightly longer to fall asleep with the knowledge that Jim, _his_ Jim, is here, yet not with him.

When he is woken by the buzzing at his door, he knows that has changed. Standing, he slips on a shirt over his bare chest before moving to open the door. Before, he wouldn't have bothered with Jim. But a part of him still feels uncomfortable, no matter what memories he might have. At least, he thinks he _should_ feel uncomfortable. Nevertheless, he opens the door, unwilling to do so from his bed.

As he'd suspected, it's Jim that greets him, blinking his large eyes at him. He can tell a grin threatens to stretch his lips, perhaps instinct, before they fall into a grimace. He already knows the words that will come out of his mouth before he speaks them.

"We need to talk."

Spock steps aside.

* * *

 **A/N:** _pyr-a_ : Basically I see this as meaning something close to destroyer/disgrace/ect. all those sorts of things

The Suya-ka are definitely going to make at least one more appearance, if not more


End file.
